


Tug

by grimeysociety



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Hair-pulling, Kitchen Sex, Making Up, POV Darcy Lewis, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: After a fight, Darcy and Bucky make up on his kitchen counter.





	Tug

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Having little plot to a smut fic never stopped me before, so here we go again. I wrote this for the 2019 Ladies of Marvel Bingo, specifically my square "Hair Pulling". This is based on a real-life argument I had with my boyfriend recently, with very similar -ahem- consequences. Enjoy!

Darcy knows she’s anything but innocent.

She was on the debate team in high school. She briefly considered going to law school when she was nine because she liked the way a person could yell “I object” and have everyone’s eyes on them. Her own indecisiveness made her pursue political science instead, and considering how that turned out, she could have done far worse.

The point is that she argues a lot. Her mom described her as a difficult child. Darcy took that as an insult when she was younger, now she sees it as an indication of her own self-worth. She likes to argue because she’s assertive.

And just because she was sleeping with Bucky did not mean she spared him from her ability to squabble. If anything, she amped it up around him.

Bucky was not a confrontational person, which made things that much harder. Darcy would come to him with a problem and he often enough shut down to avoid any kind of argument. She knows why he does that – he’s triggered by anger, because of the way his handlers treated him for years under HYDRA’s control.

But Darcy knows he’s also a grown man, and his inability to engage when she wants a heated discussion is always noted.

They’d been together on and off for a few months. “Together” may be a tad off the mark. There was a period in between tumbling into bed when Bucky didn’t know what he wanted and avoided seeing Darcy. She knows she can be scary, but she didn’t think she was _that_ scary. When he pulled his head out of his ass and finally asked her to have dinner with him, things were tentative in public, as if dating her outside of the Tower was the dead opposite of what they got up to in each other’s apartments.

Bucky is great in bed. No-one has to twist Darcy’s arm about that one. It’s his verbal communication that is still lacking, and she notes this as she sits in bed reading an article on her phone while Bucky wraps his arms around her from behind, nuzzling the back of her neck.

She’s been wanting to read this thing all day, leaving it until just now to finally glance over. It’s dumb, but it’s an article on the development of a vaccine for malaria. Apparently a friend of Jane’s had written it and Darcy was eager to eat it up. It was the little yet big things like these that made her fascinated with her job all over again. Sometimes data entry was so mind-numbingly boring she needed something to kick-start her interest in Jane’s work every so often.

Bucky kept his hands on her, kissing her neck as she read. She’d get to him soon. It wasn’t as if they’re in any hurry. It’s not even 11PM. She moves a little out of his reach, losing her place in the article and sighing. She purses her lips, backtracking and finding the paragraph she got up to.

When she finishes reading, she puts her phone face-down on her bedside table. She rolls over, seeing Bucky’s lying on his side with his back to her.

“Bucky.”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

He sounds pissed off. She hears him using that voice with Sam often enough to recognize it. She feels something twist inside her and she feels herself tense.

“What?” she snaps, and he doesn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, and she instinctively clenches her jaw.

She’s so tempted to make him turn over to look him in the eye, but it’s not her job to force him to engage. He has a therapist and pushy friends – not that Darcy’s naming names but _Steven Grant Rogers_ comes to mind – so she doesn’t move to touch him.

He’s being a baby and it’s not her job to look after him. She doesn’t like that she has to tell herself this all the time. She knows she has a tendency to want to look after messed up people. She’s maternal at heart, but she’s not his mama. No way.

She sighs, rolling onto her side so her back is to him.

Is he just going to lie there and ignore her when this isn’t his apartment?

“Actually, you know what…” Darcy moves to turn on her lamp on the bedside table and the room is flooded with a soft glow. “What is your problem?”

“Nothin’,” he says again, and Darcy makes a frustrated growling sound before she can stop herself.

“_What_ do you _want_?”

She glares at his bare back, waiting. He doesn’t move.

“I thought it’d be nice to – to hug or somethin’.”

He wants to fuck her, obviously. Darcy knows that she’s pissed off, too, but not only because he was impatient with her.

“Why don’t you say what you mean, and mean what you say?” she throws back.

The air is taut and she hates it. She hates arguing with him. He’s probably the only guy she’s never liked fighting with. It probably because she loves him.

The thought stops her in her tracks, and she feels her stomach twist with the realization.

She’s in love with him.

He gets up, retrieving his shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

Darcy tries not to panic, but she’s stuck on the thought of _holy shit, I’m in love with Bucky Barnes and he drives me nuts._

“You’re leaving?” she says, and he glances at her, pulling his shirt down.

“Yeah.”

Maybe she’s as bad as he is, because she lets him go without objecting. She lies back down, staring at the ceiling. She doesn’t sleep for a couple hours. She hates going to bed with a fight only half fought. It makes her want to get the last word in, but wouldn’t that make it worse?

Why does she have to be this petty, making up excuses to argue with a guy who is already working on himself?

She doesn’t see him for a couple of days and she tries to not think about how things might be over between them.

She goes over the argument so many times she’s obsessed with it. He didn’t tell her to put her phone down. He expected her to drop everything for him. Did she give him the impression before that that was the case? Is this somehow all her fault?

Then finally, the thought of _you don’t deserve him anyway_. Darcy’s sure that comes from her childhood or maybe having a string of crappy boyfriends in the past. Has she ever even told Bucky that he’s her boyfriend? She doesn’t think so.

She sees him in the kitchen during lunch and she stops in her tracks, before going to the refrigerator. It takes only a second for her to decide that this isn’t all her fault, and she’s not going to apologize for him not telling her how he feels. She will not crawl back to him. She has more self-respect than that, surely.

He doesn’t say a goddamn word, and that annoys her so much she thinks she might scream. She slams her coffee mug on the counter like she’s trying to break it and he keeps his focus on the sandwich he’s making a few feet from her.

She pours the creamer into her coffee and stirs it, waiting. She knows it’s a test. If he says nothing, he doesn’t care enough about her. If he doesn’t care, they’re not meant to be together.

And then maybe she’ll die alone. Her mind goes there quickly, automatically. She knows it’s not healthy, but that’s nothing compared to Mister Avoidance beside her with his peanut butter on white bread.

She stalks off to the labs, her heart racing. She knows she shouldn’t play games, invent things for him to fail inside her own head. He can’t read her mind. She feels her guts churn again, and she feels foolish.

She loves him. Why is she making this harder?

She frets over it for several hours, until she decides to go to his apartment after dinner. She wonders if he’ll even answer the door when she knocks. She didn’t want to send him a text.

When he opens the door, his eyes widen a fraction at the sight of her. He wasn’t expecting her. He seems to accept her dismissal without a fight.

How fucked up was that? She loves him. Does he love her?

“Bucky…”

He turns his heel, his door wide open and she stares after him. What the hell does he want? What is he doing? She closes his door with a slam, her feet stomping as she follows him down the hallway to the kitchen and living room.

What about what Darcy wants? She prepares herself to yell everything that comes into her head, to lay it all out there. She thought Bucky was different from the rest, but maybe she’s wrong. She hates the idea of her judgment being off even after all the disasters of her other relationships. She considers that she might be the reason for every asshole coming into her life. Maybe she attracts them, sending off some signal that she’s an easy target for jerks.

Bucky stands in his kitchen, his hands stuffed into his pockets and Darcy stops in her tracks, seeing he’s not glowering at all. If anything, his face is slack because he’s relaxed.

Shouldn’t he be mad at her?

Darcy watches him watching her. They’re both waiting.

She’ll never get over his eyes, or the way he smiles. If they’re going to break up, Darcy will need a lot of time to get over him. His eyes, his smile, the way his hands feel. Even the way he says her name will be harder to hear with him not sharing her bed.

Darcy moves, and she feels as if she’s hurling herself toward him, their hips bumping as he catches her by the waist. Darcy’s hand comes up to grasp his jaw and his face is tipping towards hers and they kiss.

It feels different, everything so whole-hearted that Darcy’s made dizzy by it. His tongue pushes between her lips and she moans, his fingers slipping under the back of her t-shirt, gliding up to feel her skin. He’s winding her further and further, and by the time she breaks off she’s panting, his thigh between her legs.

He scoops her up without another word and carries her toward the counter, placing her there and kissing her again, their eyes now level with each other. He stands between her open thighs, and with a flurry of hands his belt is unbuckled and his fly is undone by Darcy. Their kisses miss their mouths as she makes quick work of her own jeans, peeling them down and kicking them off so she’s bare to him.

Bucky takes his cock out of his boxer briefs and their eyes meet.

“You don’t wanna talk first?” he asks, and she tilts her head. He palms his cock and she narrows her eyes for a second.

“No,” she says.

He flips her over and she smiles. In less than a second he’s got her hanging off the counter with her ass in the air and she feels him run the tip of his cock down the folds of her cunt and she hisses. She glances over her shoulder at him, and he meets her stare, his throat bobbing.

Her hand comes up to touch his hip as he pushes inside, working himself into her slower than she’d like.

“You’re teasing me,” she whispers. “No-one’s stopping you. Fuck me.”

Something passes over his face in that moment and Darcy’s stomach flutters with anticipation. He takes her in one, long stroke and Darcy closes her eyes, moaning.

“Fuck.”

He doesn’t move fast enough and she whines, trying to back into him to work herself against the grain but his hands come up to rest on her back, pinning her down.

“Bucky…”

He moves in achingly slow rocks, and Darcy can’t stand it. She tries rolling her hips, craving some pressure on her clit. She feels full but she needs more, she needs him everywhere.

He transfers his hands to her waist, his fingers wrapping around either side of her. She knows he loves to marvel at the way she’s built. She can remember the first time he held her, almost locking his long fingers together.

“You trying to take it easy on me?” she says, and she feels him buck in retaliation, her smile back on her face and spreading wider. “Go harder.”

He pulls back and then slams into her, making her cry out. It feels fucking perfect and she chuckles. He picks up the pace, and soon he’s thrusting into her hard and fast.

“That feels so good,” she moans, and she can hear his panting, his grip tightening on her the further they go. She closes her eyes, thinking only of the way he feels as he fills her to the hilt.

She knows she’s sounding less dignified with each passing stroke but she knows he likes it, the affect he has on her, making her an incoherent mess. She laughs, her head turning to get a look of his face.

He lifts her hips enough to get a hand under her to tease her clit, the rough pad of his fingers making her tense up. The pressure builds beneath her navel and she twists desperately, panting with her face in the counter.

“Please, please, please –” she babbles and then she feels his fingers glide through her scalp, running down the long tresses of her hair to gather them up in his fist.

He tugs and she moans, and her stomach flips at the realization – she only mentioned in passing weeks ago that she likes her hair being pulled.

With his fingers grinding against her clit and her scalp tingling from the way he yanks her hair, it’s only a matter of seconds before Darcy’s whimpering as she comes hard, her whole body tensing as her back bows.

Her cunt twitches as she comes down, Bucky’s pace slowing to a stop as she pants, Bucky’s kitchen coming back to her. He keeps her hair in his fist but his hips start up again slower than before, almost gentle.

“Bucky,” she gasps.

He rests against her, kissing the side of her face until he reaches her mouth in a clumsy kiss. His breath is hot on her face and she sighs weakly, content.

“Too hot,” she whispers, and he chuckles, kissing her again and again.

Her hand pushes awkwardly, blindly behind her to move him off and he obliges, pulling out of her. Darcy turns, her legs feeling like Jell-O as she pulls off her shirt and bra, tossing them somewhere behind them. Bucky does the same, and then he joins her on the counter again, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He pushes the hair from her sweaty face, crowding her in his arms. His nose brushes hers and he tucks himself back inside her again, groaning.

“Am I forgiven?” Darcy whispers.

“For what?” he replies, his hips beginning to rock, distracting her.

She swallows a couple times, trying to make herself smile up at him but she knows he can read her better than that. Their argument is still on her mind and he knows it, too.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Darce,” he whispers. “I need get better at talkin’ to you. This is all on me.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Darcy admits.

He moves faster and her tone changes to breathless once again, the drag of his cock so delicious she can feel her toes start to tingle.

“I was stupid. I should have made you stay the other night. I should’ve…”

She moans as he snaps his hips.

“Jesus…”

“I know it’s probably not the time to tell you,” he says, and her eyes snap to his, her stomach flipping.

“What?” she asks, and he goes harder, Darcy’s head throwing back at the force of it.

He makes her come again before easing back, searching her face. Darcy’s hands move to clutch his face and she kisses him softer than before. She feels sticky with arousal and sweat, and she feels like she’s run up to his apartment from the lobby, she’s light-headed and drunk on him.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy, tell me,” she whispers, and he smiles.

“I love you.”

She stares at him.

“That’s not fair, I meant to say it first,” she whispers, her throat bobbing.

They kiss again, Bucky’s hips beginning to grind once more and Darcy moans.

“Come for me,” she says.

He pulls back to look at her face, his lips parting. He strokes her face with such reverence that Darcy feels a sob bubble up and she holds his face in her hands.

“I love you, too,” she whispers. “Come for me.”

“I’m really close,” he moans, and he breaks eye contact to mouth at her neck, hips picking up again. “You feel so good. Holy… _shit_ –”

His fingers go from the nape of her neck to the back of her head and he tugs again, his hips faltering as he lets out a choked groan, spilling inside her.

They pant, his head resting against her chest for a few seconds before he peels off of her, carding his fingers through his damp hair. Darcy sits up to lean on her elbows, drawing her knee up and swinging it from side to side.

“If you look at me like that for too long, you’re in trouble,” he said, taking a couple steps back to lean against the refrigerator, staring at her splayed out like that for him.

Darcy moves to roll onto her side, tossing her long hair over one shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“I think what you’re trying to say is that you wanna fight me,” she throws back, and he chuckles.

He joins her again, her scalp pulled taut in his grip and she hisses, her smile wider.

“How will we ever work it out?” he murmurs, before he catches her in another searing kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com)


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